


Stuck On Your Heart (a 'Best of the Best' Remix)

by Detochkina



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Meddling morgana, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Arthur, Oblivious Merlin, Remix, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-09 08:10:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11100489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detochkina/pseuds/Detochkina
Summary: Merlin is the best of the best as far as Morgana’s concerned, and therefore — no one else will do for her brother Arthur. It took a lot of work on her part to finally get them together at the Yule party. Now the rest is up to Merlin and Arthur, and Merlin has a story to tell...





	Stuck On Your Heart (a 'Best of the Best' Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elveatas (Ricecake)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricecake/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Best of the Best](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5323205) by [Elveatas (Ricecake)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricecake/pseuds/Elveatas). 



> This is a remix for Elveatas story "Best of the Best". Their story is light and funny and very sweet! I absolutely loved it and it was a no-brainer when I had to chose. Please go check it out and leave it tons of love! It's absolutely fantastic and was a lot of fun to remix! I hope I did it justice, dear Elveatas!  
> Many thanks to C and M for beta and pre-read. You're the best! :)  
> Special thanks to the mod of this fest! We appreciate you!

 

*****

Merlin’s very first memory — he was probably three and a half — was the day he told his mum that he loved her, because she was fizzy and bright yellow.

“Aww,” Hunith cooed, wiping her brow with a soapy hand. “You mean like the sun?”

Squinting an eye at her for a thoughtful moment, Merlin shook his head. “No, like my favourite drink, lemonade soda. And you glow.”

Hunith laughed. Her son had a great sense of humour. Yes, that, and as they discovered later— something else. Merlin had a gift for seeing the world in a very special way. In Merlin’s eyes, everyone and everything around him had their own unique “code” and he was given a key to read it. When he was little, it was more colours he associated his surroundings with. Yellow was “happy” and “motherly love”; green was “I care” and “you are my friend”; blue meant “strong” and “resolute”. Purple was “I’m tired”; and red — “I’m angry with you”. Fascinatingly, Hunith could be all of those things, Merlin came to learn with time.

He also learned that life was not as one-dimensional as he saw it at three years old. He found that every living soul had a one-of-a-kind essence at their core, with its own vital signs.

Their cat Kilgharrah, for instance, was an outlandish, bitter creature with a dark sense of humour. He knew no loyalty, but had an enormous sense of pride, and no, Merlin knew that not because he spoke “cat”. Merlin could tell this because his feline friend (Kilgharrah’s preferred definition was “counterpart”) had a special semblance about him manifesting in a grey, chilly mist curving along his spine and paws, emanating off him in a measured, slow pulse. No matter how many times Merlin teased or provoke him as a child just to test what he saw, Kilgharrah’s steadfast silver aura rarely changed.

It didn’t mean Merlin’s antics were left without retaliation. On more than one occasion, Merlin had found himself locked in a closet by some strange intervention, or his cuppa spilled all over his homework — and they both knew the culprit. Merlin never blamed him, knowing it was well deserved. Two decades later, no matter his old age, Kilgharrah remained the true definition of a very cool cat in Merlin’s eyes.

As Merlin grew, the outside world grew more complex and overwhelming along with his gift, and not as understanding and protective as were his mum and his cat. It didn’t take Hunith too long to recognise how dangerous it was for her son to be disclosing his special abilities.

Merlin couldn’t figure out why his mum’s normally sunny glow was so subdued one evening while she appeared oddly feverish, the pulse of her aura uneven and shaky like bad TV reception. His mum was worried, and so he sat down without a word when she asked, and he listened. Merlin had magic, she said, and magic was not yet accepted in Camelot. _When you read people, Merlin_ , she said, _keep it to yourself, my boy_. _Even if you really, really feel like talking to someone about it._ The only other person he was allowed to confide in was his Uncle Gaius.

It was heartbreaking to see his mum cry.

It was even more heartbreaking to watch the outside world passing by, to feel its vibrations, all the pain and the joy, the goodness and the unfairness of it, to have the ability to channel it all, and not have a clue what to do with that ability. And most of all — having no access or right to seek proper counseling about his special powers.

That was how his mother without realising it gave him a dream — and ammunition.

Uncle Gaius became his rock. Merlin saw him as mossy-green, rough on the edges, creaky and warm. Gaius was like an old oak tree who took Merlin into the shelter of his gnarly arms. He, too, had magic, but that wasn’t why his influence on Merlin was instrumental in his formative years. Gaius’s strength was in his wisdom and fairness. The low-key, understated vibe about him could be deceiving, but not to Merlin. It was thanks to his mentor’s persistence that Merlin matured quickly into his powers while learning how to stay under the radar from authorities. And it was because of Gaius's constant fear that Merlin, barely seventeen, rebelled against the social principle of being a second-class citizen and joined the Druids’ movement of instating rights for magic users in Camelot.

Today, Merlin’s proud to be the Head of the Magical Affairs division at Avalon Inc., which not only leads the fight for equality for his people, but also works hand in hand with government officials to educate and bridge the gap between the two worlds. He's dedicated his career and powers to help put magic to good use for _all_ people while protecting it from being taken advantage of for ill cause. He’s learned both to stick to his beliefs and to know when to back down if a compromise is the only way to move forward. The fight is not over yet, but there are already several rather impressive notches on Merlin’s belt, signaling significant progress. Magic is no longer illegal. Magical users no longer have to register as such and can no longer be discriminated against. The law is on their side now. The biggest challenge yet is to change the public’s perception on magic. That’s a much more challenging and arduous process, but Merlin is patient, because it’s worth it.

Avalon Inc. is the place where Merlin spends the majority of his time, staying up late, often working on weekends, sometimes forgetting to eat. The lack of any personal life has become a subject of some not-so-subtle digs from his co-workers (who technically are supposed to stand at attention when he enters the room, wankers, and _not_ be taking the piss at their boss’ expense).

This especially applies to his associate Morgana LeFay, one of the newest additions to his team, whose patronising nature can be so overbearing, Merlin's been genuinely considering turning her into a frog for a day, just to teach her a lesson. Unfortunately, Morgana is a Seer and would probably foil his effort even before he’d have the slightest inclination to carry it out. To be truthful, Morgana isn’t that bad. It’s no secret she has a beautifully conniving mind, which, along with her gift of Sight, makes her one of the most powerful witches, and Avalon Inc. is lucky to have her. But if there’s one thing Merlin knows for certain, it’s that Morgana also has an incredibly kind heart.

He recognised it in her the day she came for an interview. The iridescent, foxy-orange nebula of her magical essence, with scarlet-red undercurrents sparking through, clung to her with her every move, hugging her and letting go again as if it were unworthy of her presence. Morgana was still a fresh pupil where it came to magic, but the almost interstellar quality of it in her was blinding and it clashed with the soft-green glow slowly pulsing next her heart. This told Merlin that the young woman sitting across from him, nervously biting her lip, possessed an extraordinary gift bestowed only to exceptional people. Morgana was a sorceress who had a potential to turn an entire city to ash with a snap of her fingers, but her compassion for humanity could never let her magic be used for anything evil. Morgana was something truly special and of course was hired on the spot.

If Merlin has ever regretted that decision, he’s definitely not sorry right now as he finds himself in his flat with her brother Arthur, whom he’s been pining after for _months_ and considered unattainable up until this evening. Morgana can add “matchmaker skills” to her CV now, and Merlin’s more than happy to extend his most glowing recommendation, should she ask.

His palms hover over Arthur’s shoulders as he helps him with his coat. Gods, he’s fit. He’s so… unreal. Merlin swallows, still not believing his fortune. Arthur is here, in his flat. Maybe he should pinch himself to be certain he’s not dreaming this up, but then again, if it is nothing but a beautiful illusion, why would he rush to dispel it?

Arthur smiles at Merlin, smoothing his hair, and glances around. The unsure look on his face has an effect on Merlin he doesn’t anticipate — his heart swells in his chest and he has to take a deep breath to get ahold of himself. Arthur in his dreams would never appear this vulnerable, and with that — even more precious. This is real. This isn't an illusion. There’s also a very real stubble burn on Merlin’s chin from the proper snog he and Arthur just shared at Morgana’s Yule party, hiding on the balcony from the world.

Merlin would probably have gone at it for much longer if it wasn’t for Morgana yelling at them through the locked door, “Go get a room already! Or I’ll make it so cold there you’ll freeze all your important bits, and you wouldn’t want that, would you, now that you can finally get it on?”

No, Merlin was definitely, _definitely_ , going to turn Morgana into a frog one of these days, but then Arthur’s soft chuckle and a brush of his warm fingers over Merlin’s cheekbone took his mind in a different direction. Merlin’s flat was only a few blocks away, actually, so it was fitting for him to extend an invitation to Arthur for… _Err… a cuppa? If Arthur was up for it?_

Merlin was robbed of his breath when Arthur leaned in and kissed him softly, his eyes bright, his entire _being_ luminous the way only Merlin could see him. Arthur whispered then, “Yes, Merlin, please.”

 

*****

Now at his flat, Merlin touches the tender spot on his chin and grins, probably looking a bit deranged, so before he ruins the moment, he checks himself. “I’m so sorry, where are my manners?” He gestures Arthur towards the living room. “Please make yourself at home.” He ducks his head when Arthur arches a brow at him.

“I promised you a good brew, didn't I?” Merlin mumbles, looking away. Because even if he’s dying to “get it on” with Arthur, using Morgana’s words, he won’t assume. And certainly not on their first date. _Is it a date?_

Before he gets ahead of himself and does something stupid, like start apologising for the thoughts Arthur can’t actually hear, Merlin points at the sofa. “Please have a seat.” It’s somehow free of clutter today, an unusual but fortunate occasion, and it even has a couple of throw pillows on, which Merlin’s never seen in his life. They certainly weren't there earlier this afternoon when Merlin left for the party.

“Kilgharrah, you considerate beast, thank you,” he murmurs under his breath.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he tells Arthur. “I’ll be just a minute.”

Arthur starts to sit down and immediately jumps up with a squawk, as Kilgharrah cries angrily and scrambles up from literally underneath Arthur’s arse. Arthur turns to Merlin with a terrified expression. “I’m so sorry about this. I swear to god, I didn’t see your cat. There was absolutely nothing on the seat just a moment ago.”

“I believe you,” Merlin assures him. “Trust me, this is not your fault.”

Merlin obviously has thanked his ungrateful furry roommate way too soon. He makes a stern face at the cause of the ruckus. The old bastard who’s been staying with him ever since he moved out of mum’s place for uni, who refuses to eat unless it’s organic and fresh from the food market, is clearly back to his dirty tricks.

“Your foul sense of humour is not appreciated here, Kilgharrah. Go!” Merlin demands, wagging a finger for the cat to leave. Kilgharrah sticks his pink tongue out and begins to clean himself, starting with his left ear. “What, you can’t hear me again?” Merlin asks.

Arthur laughs. “Seems like an old argument. How long have you had him?”

“For longer than I should,” Merlin grumbles. “You’ll never meet a more spoiled and more deceiving face,” he complains.

Kilgharrah makes a noise that’s a lot like a snort.

“Sounds to me like any other cat. My father has one. Her name is Catarina, and he literally treats her like a queen. She pays him back by behaving like the worst troll on the planet, if you ask me. Never lets me eat in peace when I visit him for dinner.” Arthur squints his eye at Kilgharrah. “Should we get them together, you think?”

Kilgharrah perks up his head, his green eyes gleaming with interest, the silver mist around his fur shining with more intensity.

Merlin scoffs. “I doubt it. He’s, like, a hundred and ten in human years. All he cares about is a warm spot on the window sill and a bowl full of chicken liver.” To which Kilgharrah responds, Merlin swears to it, with a spit on his paw and a lewd salute.

Arthur goggles at the cat and then Merlin. “Merlin, did he just…”

“Yup.” Merlin nods. “That’s my special furry friend right there, who has magic, as you can guess.”

“Cats... can have magic?” Arthur asks, looking at Kilgharrah as if he just sprouted a horn on his forehead.

Merlin tenses. He knew this conversation would come up sooner or later, but he didn't think it’d be this soon. Well, here it goes.

“Kilgharrah is not a cat, exactly. It’s a form he chose for this life. But yes, all kinds of animals — cats, snakes, pigeons, you name it — can wield magical powers. Not all of them, of course,” he suggests quickly, not wanting to freak Arthur out completely. He’s the guest in this house, after all. “Unicorns and dragons are real, too,” he adds, just to get this out of the way.

“I—” Arthur's Adam’s apple bobs. He drops his eyes to the floor.

Merlin sighs. This evening has gone downhill quickly. “I'm sorry if we made it awkward for you, Arthur,” he says quietly. “I apologise for Kilgharrah spooking you. He was right mean for doing so. But please understand that magic is part of us, is part of _me_ , and I—”

Arthur’s head snaps up, his brows furrowing. “Why would you ever need to apologise for who you are?”

Merlin looks at Arthur, confused. “But your father was a lobbyist… I thought you…”

Something changes in Arthur’s face. “My own _sister_ has magic, Merlin. Do you really think I'd lobby against her rights? My father still has his reservations; he’s old school, obviously, but he’s come a long way, too. Give him time.”

Merlin knows Arthur is honest, can see it not only in his keen expression, but also in the way his aura, burgundy-warm like velvet, is weaving intricate patterns in molten gold all over his skin. It turns intensely blue, reaching up to his chest where it spreads all over his heart. If his sister Morgana’s essence is still somewhat unsure of her purpose and destiny, Arthur’s is solid and so firmly twined, it’s practically etched into his skin. Arthur, with his strong personal convictions that Merlin’s already had the privilege to witness on a few occasions, is so earnest and lovely, and _complex,_ it's no wonder Merlin’s been a goner since their very first encounter those months ago at the cafe near Merlin’s office. But he was so certain about this one thing… He passes a hand over his face.

The click of the front door closing and the empty back of the sofa can mean only one thing —Kilgharrah has left them alone in the flat. It’s astonishingly clear as far as seals of approvals go, and so unusual, Merlin has to sit down. He stares at Arthur in disbelief.

“I think we’re alone,” he whispers. “I think he’s giving us privacy. Ew.”

Arthur looks hurt. “Are you against the idea of being alone with me now?”

“Oh my god, Arthur, no!” Merlin rushes to say. He pats the sofa next to him. “It's just that Kilgharrah allowing me privacy with someone, whom I’ve been so hopelessly into, is the equivalent of giving me ‘the birds and the bees’ talk. So, yes, _ew_."

Arthur sits down, a coy smile playing on his lips. “So I’m that someone, am I?” When Merlin doesn't deny it, Arthur asks, voice lower, “How come you haven't made a move until tonight?”

Shifting so their knees are touching, Merlin places his hand on Arthur’s thigh. “I wanted to. Thought about you endlessly. I’ve never felt like this before.”

Arthur leans in, searching Merlin’s eyes. “Then why?”

Merlin tries to choose his words carefully. “I heard you make a few dismissive remarks about magic. You’ve always caught yourself and apologised, which, I won't lie, made it only harder to pretend I didn't care for you. I appreciated that you were open-minded enough and accepted responsibility.”

Merlin smiles, his cheeks warm from his semi-confession, and he tries to break the awkward silence falling between them by nudging at Arthur’s shoulder. Rewarded with Arthur’s tentative grin, he turns serious again. “Still, your apprehension towards magic was clear. And here I was, the person who didn't just have some powers. Being a part of the civil rights movement, I didn't think you’d be interested in someone so…” He waves a hand. “...controversial. I told myself early on there was no chance.

"Sometimes I felt something…” Merlin pauses, biting his lip. “...like you were _maybe_ warming up to me. And just when I thought I had a sliver of hope of your interest, you brought Mithian to a lunch with us as a date. That was...” Merlin closes his eyes briefly, his voice breaking a little. “...absolutely crushing. And too sobering to allow myself to hope again.”

Arthur groans. “She’s just a business associate, Merlin. Nothing more. Honestly, how could she be more” —he takes Merlin’s hand, deep emotion shining in his gaze— “when I already had my heart so thoroughly taken by somebody else?” He brushes a thumb over Merlin’s knuckles. “Seeing you nearly every day and knowing that I couldn’t have you was absolutely killing me.”

Merlin looks at Arthur. Gods, they were so hopelessly dim. “Is it true you thought I fancied Morgana? She told me tonight.”

Arthur sighs. “Yes. I was convinced that you had a crush on her and was resolved not to interfere in your happiness.”

Merlin shakes his head. “Putting aside my being her boss, I never had the slightest interest in her romantically. I honestly don’t know how you got that idea.”

“Well, you can’t deny she has an unhealthy fascination with you, and she never shuts up about you. How brilliant you are, how caring, how much she's learning from you every day.”

Merlin snorts dismissively, meaning to object, but Arthur continues, “Also, you guys always pick seats next to each other wherever we go. You argue like an old couple. You know each other’s favourite food! I expected any day that you two would make it official, and dreaded it terribly. I just chalked it up to Morgana’s fear of commitment.”

“Ah, Christ.” Merlin can’t believe what he's hearing. “This is so twisted, and cannot be further from the truth. Yes, in joining us, she discovered a whole different life and purpose, so it was natural for her to want to spend time with like-minded people. She needed that kind of support, so how could I deny her? And since I’m her first mentor in magic, she may have a slight case of boss worship, but there’s nothing more to it. I swear it!”

The laugh bubbling out of Arthur is so light and happy, Merlin can't stop himself from lifting his hand to Arthur’s chest, letting his fingers hover over the glowing  blue flame there.

“And to think how much time we lost,” Arthur laments, leaning into Merlin’s hand, but Merlin pulls back a bit, which doesn't escape Arthur’s notice. “What’s the matter? You can, you know, touch me.”

Feeling a bit like in awe, Merlin hesitates before carefully brushing the tips of his fingers where Arthur’s heart is, and is immediately met with the welcoming warmth and a steady thrum echoing underneath it. He suspected it from all the staring and listening he’s done while being around Arthur for so long, but it’s one thing to “read” someone’s entity, and another to actually experience its fire under his own fingertips. It doesn't burn him — it exalts him, quickening his own heart. The feeling is incomparable.

Merlin does it again, this time slowly pressing his palm against Arthur’s chest and closing his eyes. “Wow,” he hears himself say in a dreamy voice.

“What is it?” Arthur is curious.

“Do you know that you have the most beautiful presence about you?” Merlin asks, realising how strange it may sound, but if he doesn’t let Arthur know what his magic is about, if he’s not honest _tonight,_ there’s no future for them. Of that, he’s convinced.

“Aw,” Arthur says, “what a sweet talker you are. I'm charmed.” He flexes his pecs under Merlin’s hand playfully.

“No, no,” Merlin says. “It’s not something superficial. Although…” He can’t help copping a brief feel, because “...yes, okay, you’re so fit it should be illegal, all right?”

“Definitely a sweet talker. Go on,” Arthur encourages him, hitching a leg up on the sofa so he’s fully facing Merlin.

Merlin swallows. He fingers a button on Arthur's shirt before looking up at him again. “I have this thing about my magic, which lets me see things and people in a special way.”

Arthur’s brows furrow. “What kind of way?”

Merlin clears his throat, trying to assume a neutral tone, like he’s talking about the weather. “Colours. Vibrations. Everyone has their unique energy about them, if you will. Not easy to explain. I can read it off them like a braille code, except without touching anything.”

“Like, reading people’s minds?” Arthur asks, looking somewhat perturbed.

Merlin chuckles. “No mind-reading, thank God!”

“Well, that’s good. I think,” Arthur says.

“I agree,” Merlin says, somewhat encouraged. “No, It’s more about channeling auras, I guess. I’ve had it all my life and I still have trouble describing it. Some people and objects are warm, some cold; some emote in a rainbow of colours, some are dull, and some are totally mute. Those who’re stricken with grief, for instance, have a distinct aura about them, even a smell. You know how your clothes smell of smoke after you’ve sat next to a campfire?”

Arthur nods.

Merlin waves his hand. “So something like that. Kids are always bright and the most emotive, and also those with magic. Those who stopped caring, lost their way, turned evil — there are spectrums of it — I can tell right away which is which. I found it especially helpful,” he goes on explaining as Arthur listens intently, his mouth parted and his eyes wide, “when I'm at a negotiation table. I spot liars a mile away. The saying about catching someone ‘red-handed’ has an exact meaning for me.”

Arthur shifts. “Can you influence them?”

Merlin shakes his head. “No. Not with my magic. I’d like to think I wouldn't even if I could. That’s cheating and no way to win in life.”

“Wow,” Arthur says, dazed. “Wow. That’s...”

Merlin holds his breath, feeling like this is a “make it or break it” moment for them.

Arthur thinks about it. “I don’t understand, then. With this ability, you didn’t know how I felt about you?”

Merlin smiles, glad it’s not a flat-out rejection so far. He actually appreciates the question and Arthur’s more curious than apprehensive tone. “My ability doesn't pry into other people’s feelings. It’s not what it’s about. From the moment I met you, I knew you had no magic, but I saw strength, determination... _nobility,_ even — that’s the essence of who you are as a person, Arthur. There was so much _light_ in you, I couldn’t help but be drawn to you right away. But it wasn’t until I spent time with you that I learned you were smart, considerate, funny, and a bit of a prat. And had a sweet tooth just like your sister, with even less willpower than her to keep away from cakes.”

Arthur picks invisible lint off his sleeve. He mutters, “It’s not my fault those cakes are magical. You like them, too.”

He’s so adorable when he blushes, Merlin can hardly handle it. “I do,” he agrees and adds softly, “And I like you, so very much.” And not just because Arthur is such an amazing kisser and Merlin’s breath hitches when he thinks about licking into Arthur’s mouth again. Preferably very soon. Hopefully.

“Well, I didn’t need magic to know I was drawn to _you_ right away,” Arthur says, his cheeks even pinker than before. “You had me at ‘Whoops’ when I caught you right into my arms at that cafe.”

“So basically, I complete you?” Merlin asks, fluttering his lashes. He feels a blush creeping up his cheeks, too, seeing where the conversation is going and extremely chaffed by the turn of it.

“Hmm, I’m not entirely certain yet,” Arthur says slowly, his eyes crinkling. “And there’s only one way to find out.”

Before Merlin has a mind to ask what it is, Arthur pulls him in, his hand on the back of Merlin’s neck, holding him firmly. His blue eyes are bright, lips wet, and they are close, so close to Merlin’s when he whispers hotly, “So, what's my aura telling you now, _Mer_ lin?”

“That you’re strong enough to rip my clothes off in one go?” Merlin asks, or maybe suggests. It’s a toss up between the two, with some hopeful thinking in the middle. “With your teeth?”

“Now that would be a truly magical ability, don’t you think?” The hunger in Arthur’s hot gaze sends shivers down Merlin’s spine. “But not entirely outside of possibility.”

“You can do it, Arthur,” Merlin says encouragingly, staring at Arthur’s mouth. He wets his bottom lip slowly. “I believe in you.”

Arthur closes the distance with the moan, and if Merlin used a bit of magic later on to rid them of their clothes faster, Arthur needn't know. It was the spectacular result that counted.

 

*****

Merlin wakes up from a mobile chiming insistently somewhere nearby. He stretches, feeling sore and chafed in all the right places since Arthur demanded vigorous testing of their compatibility into the wee hours of the morning. Merlin has absolutely no complaints, having made sure they’ve passed the test with flying colours. There also might’ve been something akin to fireworks after one particular performance.

Merlin leans over Arthur to grab the phone. Shifting under Merlin’s weight with a slight groan, Arthur asks, “What is it?”

“It’s for you, actually.” Merlin kisses Arthur’s shoulder and hands him his mobile.

Arthur “hmmm”s with a smile so silly and sweet, Merlin wishes he could etch the image of it into his memory forever. All tousled and _bright_ and warm, his contentment thrumming loudly and proudly, showing off like a marching band at a parade on St. Patrick’s day, Arthur is gorgeous and all _Merlin’s_. Who would’ve hoped? Merlin grins at how adorable Arthur is right now.

Arthur squints at the screen for a beat and sits up quickly, nearly knocking Merlin over. He no longer looks sleepy. “Oh my god. Morgana, no!”

“What’s wrong?” Merlin asks. “What did your sister do this time?”

Judging by Arthur’s comically terrified expression, probably something embarrassingly inappropriate.

Merlin lets out an exasperated sigh. “Let me see.” He motions to see the mobile.

Arthur shakes his head and tries to hide it under the sheets.

Merlin rolls his eyes. “You know if it concerns me, she’ll tell me anyway, right?” he teases.

Arthur presses his lips together, considering it, and heaves a sigh. Before handing the mobile to Merlin, he types something in quickly first. It’s a text to Morgana. Merlin scrolls through the conversation.

 

Morgana: _Hello, brother. Are you up yet?_

Morgana _: Arthur, wake up already!_

Morgana: _Anyway, I know Merlin's with you right now. Tell him that you both owe me. If it weren't for me, not only would you’ve never hooked up, I’d also never get the opportunity to plan your wedding. Obviously, that needed fixing._

Arthur: _Morgana, you are off your trolley. We’ve just started dating._

 

Merlin looks up at Arthur, grinning. “We’re dating, then?”

“Yeah?” Arthur asks. “Okay with that?”

“I’m bloody brilliant with that,” Merlin says, and leans in to kiss his boyfriend. _Arthur’s his boyfriend_ , _bloody hell._ “And you're okay with my magic?” He has to ask.

Arthur nods without hesitation. “And you… With my uncouth past about it?” he asks.

Merlin shrugs. “We’re not perfect. We’re _us_.”

Apparently, it’s Arthur’s turn to kiss Merlin. As he does it ever so eagerly, his mobile chimes again.

 

Morgana: _Since you’re up, I’d like you to check the list of these venues for next summer. See your email._

 

Arthur looks at the screen, scrunching his face in confusion. “What is she on about?”

Merlin scratches the back of his head. “I think she means wedding venues? Err... For us?” He guffaws. “That’s totally bonkers, even for Morgana. If she actually thinks—”

The mobile chimes again.

 

Morgana: _Yes, your wedding, don’t be daft. And before you start protesting, I must remind you that I'm a Seer and I always know BEST._

 

Laughing, Arthur plucks the phone out of Merlin’s slightly trembling hand, shuts it off, and tosses it back on the nightstand. “So be it. But before all that, we have loads of shagging to catch up on. Agreed?”

Merlin believes that’s the best idea he’s ever heard in his life.

Seriously, _the_ best.

 

FIN

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
